


The Asgardian Guide to Cross-Dimensional Travel

by IrmoKementari



Category: Doctor Who, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: But he acts like it, Frigga is a troll, Gen, Loki is a troll, Loki is clever, Middle Earth is irked, Multiple Universes Colliding, Sif is annoyed, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrmoKementari/pseuds/IrmoKementari
Summary: After the events of "The Avengers", Asgard still needs a new Bifrost. Who better to build it than Loki? He may get a little carried away. In which the warriors three are used as dimension hopping ginea pigs, Middle earth is generally irked, and the Trickster pulls one trick too many.





	1. Of Brothers and Bifrosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the newly restored Bifrost is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, citizens of the internet. This is our first offering to this sight, but is has been languishing in the hard drive for many years, though never finished. Updating can be a challenge as I, Kementari, and Irmo, my brother, both have busy schedules, but we will keep up weekly updates for a while, anyhow. Please be kind, our imaginations are strong, our egos weak. Let us know what you think, and above all we hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it. -Kementari  
> P.S. None of these characters are ours. Even if they were, we would make no money from them.

-Halls of the Odin Rest, Asguard-

'Today is a good day to drink, I guess every day is a good day to drink on Asgard… but hey, what's one more tankard?' Odin took another swig and chuckled that some people thought of Thor as the irresponsible one. That is just one more perk to being king. He could just fall into the "Odin Nap" or whatever they call it nowadays, wait for them to close the door, and then call Heimdall in to talk some sports (Vikings rock) and slam some of that Niflheim mead that Frigga thought he couldn’t find.  
There was but one problem with being king, and that was a problem Thor had given him, (for once the good one broke something.) Now that the Bifrost was down, how exactly could he race the other kings to random realms?  
Well, there is always the chance that some heroic hero would fix it. Of course once he started asking around there were hundreds of Asgardians bouncing up and down (literally in some cases) to fix it, but very few had the skill or knowledge to build a bilgesnipe trap, much less a trans-dimensional portal.  
So of course, he had to haul Loki up to fix it.  
Some folks thought that giving Loki control of potentially the most powerful tendril of Yggdrasil gifted to the Aesir was a bad idea since Loki still hadn't buried the hatchet after falling off the dumb thing, but Odin just had Heimdall watch the trickster so no biggie. Seriously, who is a better guy to watch a psychopathic con man then the man who sees all? (That last bit frankly creeped him out and made him wonder just what-all the golden-eyed watchman really saw. Does he try finding Santa or something? Maybe he found Bigfoot by now… or the abominable snowman? Or maybe the…?)  
Whoops, there it went again, you would not believe how hard it is to retain a train of thought when mildly intoxicated… (code for totally wasted) but the bridge has been fixed, and now he might be able to use it, even though it COULD be dangerous; Frigga wanted him to send a probe through it, but hey, that's not very fun! So it is a good thing he had an elite squad of super strong goons to try it out… time to call out the Warriors Three…. and Sif? Nah, Sif can sit back and chill with Thor.

-Meanwhile, in the Halls of Feasting-

"Hey, Volstagg, I bet I can eat more legs of lamb then you can!" taunted a thin, but extremely dangerous looking young man, who was armed with a sword, a bow, and more daggers than any one being had any right to possess.  
"I could beat you with my mouth sewn shut! No, that's not right... that would really hurt, and i wouldn't be able to eat... Ah,Man! now my head hurts, I just want me a tankard of mead.. Tankard of mead… tankard of mead… I like mead, and I like tankards… whoa... Why are there five of you Hogun? Give that back! Where are you taking- I need that!? HOOOOGUUUUN?!  
Standing off to a side, flanked by two reluctantly sober guards, Loki chuckled. ‘Oh how fun it is to watch a fat man run.’ he mused, as Volstagg charged by (charging might be a stretch, more like wobbling). But perhaps such physical exertion is warranted, he is being goaded after all... by a tankard of mead and some roast boar. ‘Man, Hogun has wheels. The thought made him smirk, I wish I could run that fast, might have helped me get out of the room when Sif found out her hair was dyed…’ the look on her face had been priceless. He had considered going for something a little more "adventurous" than black, but if he had gone with pink he probably would be dead right now. Loki smirked, life was good. Well... when he wasn't plunging through the void. But he had the feeling that today was going to be one of those really-super-epic-amazing-hilarious days. Either that or Odin would be drunk when time for the speech about his "wonderful rainbow bridge" had to commence. ‘Yeah, that would be pretty good too…’

-Not in the Halls of Feasting-

Frigga was just having a bad day, first of all, one of the guards had cheesed her off, and she had had to throw him into the dungeon (the guy had said she had anger problems, but hey, it's stressful being queen, and he doesn't have to balance in these stupid shoes all day...) Then of course Odin had gone into his "Odinsleep" like the whole population the nine realms didn't know what THAT was all about. It isn't realm hopping, people; you could hear laughter coming from in there all day long, and Heimdall was always gone from his post for exactly as long as the Odinsleep lasted.  
On top of all that, Volstagg and Hogun must have drunk half of the mead in Asgard. Seriously, hundreds of Asgardians were going to be at the feast tonight and at this rate they would have to ration the alcohol! And that was before Fandral and Thor showed up, but hey, she can't judge. Her pastime donning a glamour and throwing eggs at anyone who dares walk past her door. Of course, she had been anticipating a particular means of stress relief, stealing Eir’s cat and using it as a test subject of the Bifrost, but then, of course, Odin decided that sentient test subjects where necessary…  
Why did I marry him? Yes, he is the king, and if I didn't marry him, he would have sold Asgard for as many alcoholic beverages as he could get his hands on, but was it worth it… Frigga paused to consider the question, before she shook herself from her reverie and continued her preparations for the grand speech. Frigga snorted, ‘grand’? Last time this happened Odin needed his personal guard to keep him on his feet. Once he even banished Thor because "He took the last leg of lamb."  
I guess I should bless the lands of Asgard with my presence, hmmm, should I bring eggs or not? Perhaps egging the king would reflect poorly on my queenly dignity. Maybe later. Perhaps just one, hidden on the throne, so when Odin sits down he will get a squishy surprise…

\- Three Hours Later, Hall of Feasting, Again-

Odin had awoken and was throwing his party, half of the population was present, and things could get very dangerous very fast, "I bet three-quarters of the people here, including the children, are armed" commented Sif.  
"Well, you are probably right, but hey, that's what makes these things fun!" Thor replied with a worryingly excited smirk.  
Loki facepalm, mentally groaning. What is the point of this drunken small talk? It's just stupid; next thing you know they are going to say something like 'look at how nice the weather is!' as if the whole weather system isn't controlled up here.  
"Isn't the weather nice this time of the year?" asked Sif.  
"Um, what's with my brother?"  
Sif turned, and saw Loki trying to stab himself with a spoon. "I don't know," she shrugged, "I usually just try to zone him out."  
Thor looked at her questioningly, "That is kind of harsh you know, yet wiser, perhaps, than attempting to understand him." Suddenly they heard a crash, a couple screamed expletives and an "I'M FREEEE."  
Thor and Sif spun around in time to see several palace guards surrounding a green blur of motion. There were several blurred kicks, a well-placed illusion and Loki was out the window.  
"Somebody should take care of that…"  
"Yes, they should…" Sif agreed before turning back to her food.  
Thor gave the window one more worried look before shrugging it off; either Loki had a few too many drinks, or he was just having one of his "Hate small talk" rage fits.  
Down below, on one of the many fragrant garden paths that wound around the feasting hall, Hogun was just enjoying his evening walk when "splat", Loki landed RIGHT in front of him.  
He was grinning.  
Hogun stared frantically at the grinning megalomaniac, 'Should I stop him or just try to blend in and run for my life? Wait, is he armed? Nope, that's just a spoon, never mind. '  
"What are you looking at? I have seen a LOT of your fights end worse than this!" Loki broke the silence with a grin, right before the guards appeared and dragged him away.  
"Well, that was weird," he muttered. But he had long ago learned not to expect any level of sanity from this demented realm, so with one last shake of his head he continued to prepare his mind for the coming ceremony.

-Significantly Later-

Fandral swaggered confidently past the rows of assembled Asgardians. This was so cool. The All-Father was letting the Warriors Three be the first to try out the "new and improved" Bifrost. It was going to be totally epic! It would probably not going to be a grand and exhilarating adventure to thrill the ladies with upon his return, but that could be fixed with a bit of doctoring. It would be fairly tame in reality; Loki said it would be.  
He paused in his step and considered that last thought. Yeah, Loki, trustworthy, he had had too much to drink.  
Ah, well, it would be a grand honor none the less, assuming Loki was not serious about that threat to just send them to the plains of Muspelheim and close the gate. Nah, Loki had been angry at the time, he wouldn't really...would he?  
Fandral shuddered, this was not the time to be having second thoughts, the All-father's speech was about to commence. He and his fellow warriors came to a stop at the foot of the bridge where the ceremony was to be held before the brave warriors were to be sent to their doom- adventure. Fandral shook all lingering thoughts of dread from his mind as he clapped his fist over his heart and knelt before the All-Father.  
The warrior three lifted their heads to gaze respectfully at the All-Father. He must have been woken from the Odin sleep, Fandral thought reverently. The aged man's eyes were bleary and there was dampness over his head. Frigga must have had to use all of her arts to wake him from so deep a slumber just for this occasion, Fandral thought wonderingly. He suddenly realized how important this mission was as he glanced over at the dignified queen standing in her place beside the throne. He could see one of her hands gently supporting her aged lord, and her face was set in grim determination. He felt suddenly inspired by new-found resolve.  
"My loyal vassals," Odin began, addressing the three armored men kneeling at his feet, he seemed to pause as Frigga whispered something in his ear. "I bid you rise, for today, you are not my servants," he paused for dramatic effect as Frigga leaned close and whispered something else. "You are my friends."  
The crowd cheered appreciatively as the warriors stood and Fandral winked at one particularly feminine corner of the crowd. He turned back to the proceedings, but saw several swooning figures out of the corner of his eye.  
As the cheering faded Frigga leaned toward her husband's ear one more, doubtless to offer encouragement as the Odin sleep beckoned, and Odin held up a hand and spoke again, "Though this bridge has been repaired by the criminal Loki..." Here Frigga seemed to shift her weight and Odin flinched and rubbed his ankle, before continuing. "It shall bring many realms to justice through the..." Odin paused again and Frigga whispered in his ear. "Through the valiance and vigilance of Asgardian strength."  
Fandral noted a stir near the steps to the dais and saw Thor hopping on one foot and glaring daggers at a well secured, and strangely battered Loki. The dude looked like he was thrown from a top story window. Wonder what that was all about.  
The king had started to branch his speech off about how the bridge would lessen the need for alcohol tariffs and trade with Niflheim would flourish, when Frigga whispered in his ear and he finally concluded "Now, it is with great honor, that I send these brave men through our new gate, that we may once again rule the universe!" He started laughing maniacally and one or two people clapped hesitantly before Frigga accidently stepped on his now discolored foot and gestured for the procession to move down the bridge.  
As Fandral strutted down the bridge to his grand adventure, he chanced a glance back and saw Loki waving after him with a positively evil grin on his narrow face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fellow nerds, whatsup? hope you enjoyed the first chapter! as Kementari said we are mildly busy (I have a full time job of sitting on a couch all day, so that keeps me busy..) but we be hoping you like it as much as we enjoy writing it! I could beg you all to leave reviews, but instead, I bribe you, free cookies for all reviewers, do it, do it now....  
> -Irmo


	2. Of Wormholes and Weirdos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Asgard makes a first impression upon Middle Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all who are brave enough to return for another chapter, we hope you enjoy it.  
> As always, no copyright infringement is intended, all characters belong to Tolkien and Marvel. The beginning of this chapter is styled after the beginning of Tolkien's "The Two Towers." Obviously, I am not Tolkien, and I would be too scared of his extremely literate angry spirit to tick him off. Read and Enjoy. -Kementari

~o~o~o~ An Unknown Realm ~o~o~o~

Aragorn sped up the hill. Every now and again he bent to the ground. Hobbits go light, and their footprints are not easy even for a ranger to read, but not far from the top a spring crossed their path, and in the wet earth he saw what he was seeking.  
'I read the signs aright' he said to himself. 'Frodo ran to the hilltop, but he returned by the same way.'  
Aragorn hesitated. He desired to go to the high seat himself, hoping to see something that would guide him in his perplexities; but time was pressing. If only a sign would guide him in his plight…suddenly a cry like that of a frightened maiden rang out from somewhere directly above him. Turning his face upward, Aragorn had but a moment to marvel at three strange men being spewed from a wavering blue hole in the sky before said men landed ignominiously atop him. 'Well, that settles that question at least.'  
Aragorn struggled out from beneath the mass of struggling limbs, and with a deft motion, he drew Anduril. This appeared to be a new trickery, and if trickery it was, he must be doubly vigilant.  
The three strangers righted themselves nearly as quickly as he had. Well, two of them did. The fat one was still rolling around and muttering about motion sickness and roast boar. The heavy man's companions stepped back warily, and Aragorn followed suit. He wasn't generally a ninny, but he wasn't over eager to be in the way if said roast boar were to make reappearance.  
"Who are you, and what is your purpose?" Aragorn demanded, directing his attention to the fair haired stranger and his morose companion for the time being. He couldn't be sure, but the fair man might have been a Rohirrim, the black haired man looked like an Eastern corsair and the red man…perhaps he was a mutated dwarf?  
The fair one smirked and answered, "We are the three most overqualified lab rats at Odin's disposal, sent to test the fidelity of the least trustworthy architect this side of Vanaheim."  
Before Aragorn could comment on the man's poor head for alcohol, a deep horn blast penetrated the air.  
"The horn of Boromir!" he cried and sprang past the now thoroughly confused strangers. "Elendil! Elendil!" he cried as he crashed through the trees, sword still in hand, following the waning cry of the horn.  
Finally, nearly a mile from the stream from whence he came, he burst through the trees to see Boromir leaning against a tree and surrounded by dead orcs. Aragorn quickly disposed of the last orcs foolish enough to remain on the scene and hastened to Boromir's side.  
Boromir opened his eyes with an effort and stared first at Aragorn and then at the three warriors who had just arrived upon the scene and were now leaning upon their weapons in various stages of exhaustion. With a start, the dying man blinked and looked again. "What?" he gasped and turned his eyes back to Aragorn for a moment before trying again. "What are those morons doing here?"  
Aragorn frowned. This was not what he was expecting. He spared a questioning glance over his shoulder at the three men who had managed to catch their breath were now staring at Boromir with varying degrees of sympathy and admiration. The blond one was whispering something to his companions about a glorious death in battle, but none of them seemed to recognize Boromir, and Aragorn realized that Boromir was hallucinating.  
"How are you here?" Boromir gasped. "How did you know this would happen? You said I would try to take the ring, and I did! How could you know that?!" he paused in his tirade to cough and grasp one of the arrows in his stomach. "You knew I would die…" he trailed off as Aragorn stared at him in concern.  
"You tried to take the Ring?" Aragorn asked in disbelief.  
"I…I was weak, I am sorry, the orcs took the Halflings…" he dissolved into coughs still alternating his gaze between Aragorn and the strangers, "I have failed Gondor, I have failed…" he broke off again in exhaustion.  
"Um, I'm having trouble remembering your face;" the red man admitted with consternation, "Do you frequent Asgardian bars?"  
"Did they take Frodo?" Aragorn asked urgently, ignoring the cavalier strangers for the moment, but no answer came, and the ranger knew that his friend was already dead.  
Aragorn closed his friend's eyes and sighed. 'So passes Boromir, heir of Denethor lord of the Tower of the Guard! This is a bitter end. Now the company is all in ruin.' He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "And now I am left with these ill-mannered spies who dropped out of the sky…My life stinks." He thought despondently.

~o~o~o~Back in Asgard~o~o~o~

"My liege, I bring you… troubling news, it is of the warrior three." Heimdall intoned solemnly as he strode dramatically into the grand hall.  
"What news? Has something happened to them?" demanded Odin. Loki was standing behind him, flanked by two guards, and trying (and failing) not to grin maliciously.  
"Yes, they have disappeared from the branches of Yggdrasil! They are in an unknown realm, it looks a bit like the Midgardian common-wealth of new Zealand, just without the funky accents, and plus a bizarre menagerie of sentient beings ranging from a whole race of fully lingual Groots to a giant flaming eye whose plot for world domination seems to be hinged on an item of mislaid jewelry. It all reminds me of a book I read a long time ago. I could show you of course, but right now our Asgardian heroes seem to be okay. They have joined a small company of warriors and right now they are just walking… and walking…oh! Now they are jogging! That actually looks really tiring. Ooh… Volstagg is going to be seeing that lembas again."  
"I believe you! That is quite enough!" Odin interrupted hurriedly.  
Loki grinned; this was too good! He had known that his new Bifrost was free from the outmoded constrictions of the old. He had known that the warrior three would probably get hurled to an unknown realm (hopefully one with an atmosphere, but Loki knew how to cut his losses) but just knowing what could happen was not half so fun as hearing about the trio's misfortune. He kind of wished he could see them himself just so he could laugh at their confused faces.  
"Um, Loki, do you know something about this?"  
Loki snapped out of his reverie to see everyone in the room staring at him. Oops, he must have had that 'evil maniac plotting your slow and painful demise' look on his face again. He should really start paying better attention, but solitary confinement had apparently taken a toll on his poker face; he had made that deal to fix the bridge just in the nick of time. "No, of course not, All-Father, I am simply relieved that the warriors have found an adventure truly fit to their calling."  
Odin nodded sagely, but was still staring at Loki strangely, so Loki widened his eyes innocently and added, "I just hope they're alright, they are my friends after all." At that last bit he allowed his voice to falter and lowered his eyes to the ground.  
The All-Father stared at his delinquent son for a moment longer before he appeared satisfied with what he saw and turned his attention to other matters.  
Frigga rolled her eyes and Loki smirked.

~o~o~o~Meanwhile...~o~o~o~

"So, let me get this straight, you guys are from Asgard, which is not only one of the nine realms on some metaphorical dimension-bridging tree named Yggdrasill, but also the most powerful planet in any known plane of existence, and you went over a rainbow bridge, and landed here, and now you want to know what realm this is?" asked a very doubtful looking Aragorn.  
"Yep, that's about it! Except it's not a rainbow bridge; it looks like a rainbow, and it's a bridge, but we call it the Bifrost!" explained Fandral, with a big grin, "So, what realm is this again?"  
Aragorn stared at the blonde man for a moment before commenting wonderingly, "It seems I have made a hasty judgement in assuming you to be agents of the Dark Lord; no self-respecting master of evil would send his spies with tales of universe spanning ash trees somewhere over the rainbow." Aragorn hesitated a moment then added, "But then, he did willingly siphon his power through an easily misplaced finger ornament, so perhaps I overestimate his intellect."  
Fandral snorted then hurried to match the ranger's lengthened strides so he could continue to educate him on the truths of the universe.  
Aragorn was a little preoccupied tracking the mud-monsters (orcs he called them) but he still managed to argue that it was unheard of to magically travel from planet to planet much less bridge dimensions. (Aragorn really started to question the sanity of the universe when he found that Fandral had never heard of Middle-Earth or even of Arda.)  
Gimli rolled his eyes, "Is Blondie always like this? And did you hear the whole rainbow bridge thing…" at this point he took to whispering with Volstagg "exactly how drunk was he when he fell out of that tree?"  
Volstagg sighed heavily. Or maybe he was just still breathing heavily from the Aragorn- mandated forced march. "Actually, we really did come from a different realm," he stated almost apologetically. At Gimli's incredulous look, he dropped back, nominally just to explain their predicament to the dwarf, but really just because he was so stinking tired.  
At this point, Hogun and Legolas found themselves in relative seclusion as neither of them were ambitious enough to match Aragorn's pace and brave Fandral' s chatter or bored enough to listen to Volstagg trying to sound like he had the slightest clue of how the Bifrost worked. So they just continued to walk in silence. Neither of them were big talkers.  
"Your friends are strange."  
Hogun glanced at the elf, but Legolas continued walking with that weird 'I can see so far I am watching the back of my own head from all the way around the world' look on his face. Hogun shrugged, "Your friends aren't exactly normal; a man, a dwarf, and an elf, traveling the wilderness on foot in search of 'Hobbits' that have been captured by 'Orcs'."  
"I admit our world has need gone insane that I would willingly quest in fellowship with a dwarf." Legolas said this with a hint of amusement under his feigned disgust.  
They walked in companionable silence once more. Behind them, the red-bearded men were laughing animatedly about giant rainbows and grizzly battles. Up ahead, Fandral had abandoned his crusade to verify the existence of the Bifrost and was now asking Aragorn about Rohirrim women.  
Perhaps this odd company was not so bad.


	3. Of Questions and Questing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our dashing heroes join the ranks of the Rohirrim. Or something like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I am too impatient to wait for the New Year before posting, so have a chapter. Enjoy 2018!  
> -Kementari

Eomer rode proudly at the head of his regiment. He and his riders had just taken out a whole camp of orcs and only had two casualties. He sighed happily as his little troop rode onward; those stinky orcs hadn't stood a chance! They were weird looking orcs though. He wondered briefly if he should be worried by that, then shrugged. They WERE weird looking orcs, now they're just weird looking ashes. He smiled grimly; point one for the good guys.  
Suddenly a voice called out from behind him, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"  
Eomer started in his saddle, but recovered quickly. With a deft kick of his foot he had wheeled his horse and began to gallop around the strange figures that seemed to have risen from the grass. He and his men raced their horses in an ever shrinking circle around the strange beings that had the nerve to venture through orc infested wilderness, and the skill to evade his sight. Within seconds the strangers were trapped inside an impenetrable wall of horses and spears.  
'That was totally awesome!' Eomer thought excitedly, 'We have been practicing that for forever and we finally got it right!' With a light nudge to his horse, Eomer rode forward until the point of his spear was inches from the chest of the apparent leader. Now that he was closer, he saw that the company consisted of four men, an elf, and dwarf. Oops, he had thought that they were orcs, but to back out now would look silly, so he demanded "Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?"  
The scruffy looking man at the point of his spear was about to reply, but the blond man with the goatee beat him to it. "Funny, that is almost exactly what Aragorn here asked us when we bonked into each other!"  
The man facing Eomer looked mildly annoyed or a moment and Eomer guessed that he had wanted to give a false name. So this was Aragorn. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn't ringing any bells.  
Trying to stay on topic, Eomer ignored for the moment the question of Aragorn's name and the puzzle of his untactful comrade, and instead asked, "How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?" Great, he just asked if they were elves, it's a good thing he didn't mention the whole thinking they were orcs thing, that would really wipe away any scrap of trust these people had in his eyesight.  
Aragorn replied, "No, one only of us is an Elf, the rest of us have passed through the woodland realm and carry the favors of the lady with us, except for these men who travel with us. Our paths crossed at Parth-Galen, and their voices have plagued my steps ever since. As for my purpose, I am a wanderer from the north, and I am hunting orcs."  
Before Eomer could reply to this revelation, they were interrupted, again.  
"That is incredibly rude!" the taller of the two wide-girthed, hirsute strangers protested. "We volunteered to help you out on your quest thing, with no hope of reward, and all you can do is insult us! When I tell this story back in Asgard, I will describe you as having a paunch! See if I don't!"  
Eomer offered Aragorn a pitying glance, and the man came as close to rolling his eyes as a tall and grim roamer of the wilderness and hunter of orcs could come to rolling his eyes. In this case, it was pretty close.  
Suddenly Eomer registered what the man had said, "So there is a Lady of the Golden Wood as the old tales tell!" he thought aloud. "Few escape her nets, they say. Perhaps you yourselves are net-weavers!" he stared at the travelers with renewed wariness, he was pretty sure that they weren't casting any illusions, but he was supposed to be keen of mind and eye, and it's hard to look keen of eye when you almost miss six people standing on a hill without cover, who aren't even hiding from you…  
"Strange days indeed, but we really didn't come here to talk about golden nets and fairy tales, did you happen to see any 'orcs' that we can squish?"  
Eomer turned cold eyes upon the talkative blond man. He would have been disturbed by the silence of the three that had yet to speak, but this blond one was making it difficult enough to get a word in edgewise that perhaps their taciturnity was understandable. After a moment of staring the man down, he simply stated, "Strangers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. You truly know little of orcs if you pursue them in this manner, yet you need pursue them no longer, for the Orcs are destroyed. Now tell me 'Aragorn' who do you serve, and from whence you come and to what purpose, for we have never met, yet I feel that yours is a story that soon many shall hear."  
Aragorn considered him a moment before replying, "First tell me whom you serve, are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"  
"As for that," Eomer declared, conscious that his men were watching him, "the stranger should declare himself first, but I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Theoden King, son of Thengel; we are not servants to the Black Land, nor are we at war with. We wish things only to remain as they always have. In better days we welcomed guests but now the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Now tell me, oh Aragorn of the strange company, from whence do you come into this land and whom do you serve that you hunt orcs so on foot?"  
At this point, Aragorn drew himself to his full height and prepared himself to offer a full revelation. A fire lit behind his eyes, and Eomer clearly saw that this man was much more than a wandering hunter of orcs. His face became grim and fair, like the ancient kings carved into stone. The man threw back his cloak to reveal a bright and beautiful sword, held in a sheath of elven making. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I am not weaponless. I know more of orcs than many a mortal man, and I hunt them thus not out of choice, but because they have taken our friends. In such a straight a man will go on foot for lack of a horse, and surround himself with talkative idiots for lack of a company."  
Eomer stared at the man for a moment, Aragorn seemed prepared to go on, but the blond man in strange armor looked like he was about to talk again, so he quickly dismounted and said, "Truly legends spring from the grass, we have horses, for three of my men have fallen. We saw no beings but orcs for all within the camp were destroyed, yet if you wish to find for yourselves the fate of your fellows you need not do it on foot."  
At that last declaration the taller red bearded man began to snicker, and Eomer realized that perhaps the word 'fallen' was an unfortunate euphemism for the death of a horseman.  
Eomer saw Eothain giving him a dirty look, and hid his smirk. He was Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshal of Ridermark; he did not give horses to strangers just to upset his uptight second in command. But it was a really big bonus. Maybe not worth breaking the law, he frowned; he had forgotten about that law, the annoying blond one had distracted him. Shoot, he would have to ask some of them to stay behind as insurance or something.  
"Our friends were not men, but would appear as dwarves or children to your eyes, they were clad in grey and unshod. Did you see any such bodies among the dead?"  
Eomer turned back to Aragorn and his frown deepened, the orcs stole this guy's kids. That would certainly explain why he had journeyed out through the wilderness on foot. "We saw neither child nor dwarf when we despoiled the bodies and burned them as is our custom." He explained, trying not to think about the many ways that the monsters could have disposed of a couple of children before the riders thorough intervention.  
"If the Hobbits are all crispy, I really don't need to see them. I'm good, we can go home now."  
Aragorn stared expressively at the big, red-bearded man for a moment, and the dwarf stabbed the hilt of his axe into his taller counterpart's foot.  
"Hobbits," Eomer sounded out the name doubtfully, "it is a strange name."  
"A strange name for a strange folk," the dwarf agreed, "you probably know them as Halflings."  
Eothain snorted derisively, "Do fairy tales and legends now walk the earth?"  
Aragorn looked like he was going to give some cryptic answer, but the blond one beat him to it. "Well, funny you should ask, seeing as I am almost certain that Midgardian culture has stories written about you guys, but I don't really think that's important right now. Sounds like the 'Hobbits' kicked the bucket. Sorry guys," he shrugged at the other men…and the dwarf…and the elf… (Things used to be a lot simpler.) "Someone had to say it."  
The dark haired man who had yet to speak stilled his vocally inclined friend with a firm hand on the shoulder and added apologetically, "We are sorry for your loss, it sounds as if these Hobbits were very dear to you, but we were sent from Asgard for exploratory purposes, and we accompanied you for the sake of helping your friends, but if your friends are dead, we need accompany you no longer. It would be expedient if we could now travel with these riders to the nearest settlement."  
For once, Eomer was speechless, and it looked like Aragorn, and his slightly more loyal friends were as well. This would take care of the problem of letting strangers roam free through the Mark with insurance of good behavior, but Eomer wasn't sure his job was worth listening to those people talk until they made it back to the capital.  
Finally Eothain managed to ask, "Excuse Me?"  
The blond one started talking again, "So, basically we've been traveling with these guys to have an adventure and save the tiny alien subspecies in distress, but sounds like tiny alien subspecies bit it, so we want to hitch a ride with you guys."  
Eomer stared at the talkative one in horror, he saw Eothain staring in disbelief, the dwarf was staring in narrowly suffused rage, the elf was observing in practiced indifference, and Aragorn actually looked a little relieved.  
"Um…" he looked to Eothain hopefully, for once hoping the snide officer would insert himself.  
Eothain stood a little taller and spoke in his 'If you had followed the rules to begin with you wouldn't be in this position' voice. (Eomer would have been more annoyed except he heard that voice fairly often.) "I am afraid that the Marshal has just given away all of our spare horses, if you desire to ride you must remain with you friends, we trust that in better times you will return to the hospitality of the Mark."  
Wow, Eomer had yet to comprehend just how politically correct that little upstart could be.  
Aragorn raised his eyebrow at Eothain in an unmistakable challenge, "We thank you for these fine horses," here he rubbed Hasufel's flank, "but my friends have on several occasions confided in me their deep and lasting love for vigorous calisthenics and would little slow you though they were all on foot. Indeed," he continued, "we need only two of your fine horses that your third empty mount may bear them in turns and two may run while one rides. In this way you will make good time, and none of your men will be overburdened, for these men are hardy, and as fleet of foot as of tongue."  
Eomer narrowed his eyes, this man may be nobility, he could be the heir of Isildur for all he cared, but he was not going to win this. Aragorn was the one to pick these men up in the first place, and he would be keeping them. That comment about these nincompoops being able to keep pace with the steeds of Rohan kind of rankled though. "We have defeated one company of orcs, yet many more may roam this wilderness, it would be ill-suiting of us to rob you of your protection, if these men desire to see the golden halls of Theoden King, they may ride with you when you have fulfilled your purpose and returned our horses to us."  
Aragorn smiled amiably, but Eomer saw, beneath the world weary face and gentle smile, the desperation of a man who has been captive to the horrors of endless banter and seeing an escape would stop for no man. "Then we look forward with anticipation to the conclusion of this adventure that we may return to the Mark and witness the beauty of Rohan's maidens and the richness of Rohirrim wine."  
Eomer's relief at Aragorn's unexpected submission was cut off as the talkative one and the fat one both perked up.  
"How pretty are we talking here?" The blond man asked.  
Aragorn pretended to reminisce for a moment even though Eomer knew that he had never personally been to Riddermark. "The women of Rohan are tall and fair, with hair like flaxen gold; some say the beauty of a Rohirrim shield maiden is comparable even to the beauty of the woodland elves."  
The elf raised his eyebrow at Aragorn, but the ranger muttered quickly, "Peace, Legolas!"  
"Rohan women are able to fight?" the darker one asked, piqued.  
Before Eomer could catch himself, he heard himself saying, "My sister, Eowynn is a shield maiden, and the most perilous and beautiful maiden in Rohan." The blond one and the dark one both looked interested now, and Eomer cursed his brotherly pride.  
Aragorn continued relentlessly, "Have you heard, Legolas, of the Rohirrim wines?"  
The elf nodded wisely, with a smug expression upon his flawless features, "Long the Elven Lords have treasured the brew of Rohan, indeed, sweet and powerful is the wine, but the food also is perfectly flavored; none go hungry in those fine halls. Those who have eaten there believe that the land itself is blessed to produce so fine a fare."  
The red man was listening with rapt attention to Legolas's description until he could contain himself no longer, "Indeed, we must travel with you, oh masters of horses, for no power on earth would bid me ride with these eaters of lembas when so glorious a city is at hand! Give me a horse at once!"  
Eomer was beginning to have some very unfriendly thoughts toward these strangers, and decided that it was probably a good thing that he had handed off his spear in order to dismount. "You do us great honor, but alas, Rohan has fallen upon difficult times, and I am afraid naught will grow, our stores are meager and my party was sent that we might find a starving hog or hart with which to feed the old and sick." Rohirrim were primarily honest men, and none were skilled with deceit, but even so, Eomer was pretty sure that his horse could have spun a better lie.  
Aragorn looked about them wordlessly for a moment, clearly observing the lush grass and shining horses.  
"Fine, we'll take them." Eomer muttered gracelessly.  
Eothain stalked off to gather the Eored and Eomer heard him muttering in vivid terms about half-witted Marshals signing them on to babysit quarter-witted orc hunters.  
Eomer sighed; this was going to be a long ride.


	4. Of Questions and Questing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our dashing heroes join the ranks of the Rohirrim. Or something like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Irmo is currently unavailable for comment. Sorry. His Notes are more fun than mine. But thank you to all who read, and especially to those who comment and give us the feedback to make future chapters better. Y'all are the real heroes and all that. Keep it up, be awesome, and have a chapter. Enjoy 2018!  
> -Kementari

Eomer rode proudly at the head of his regiment. He and his riders had just taken out a whole camp of orcs and only had two casualties. He sighed happily as his little troop rode onward; those stinky orcs hadn't stood a chance! They were weird looking orcs though. He wondered briefly if he should be worried by that, then shrugged. They WERE weird looking orcs, now they're just weird looking ashes. He smiled grimly; point one for the good guys.  
Suddenly a voice called out from behind him, "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"  
Eomer started in his saddle, but recovered quickly. With a deft kick of his foot he had wheeled his horse and began to gallop around the strange figures that seemed to have risen from the grass. He and his men raced their horses in an ever shrinking circle around the strange beings that had the nerve to venture through orc infested wilderness, and the skill to evade his sight. Within seconds the strangers were trapped inside an impenetrable wall of horses and spears.  
'That was totally awesome!' Eomer thought excitedly, 'We have been practicing that for forever and we finally got it right!' With a light nudge to his horse, Eomer rode forward until the point of his spear was inches from the chest of the apparent leader. Now that he was closer, he saw that the company consisted of four men, an elf, and dwarf. Oops, he had thought that they were orcs, but to back out now would look silly, so he demanded "Who are you, and what are you doing in this land?"  
The scruffy looking man at the point of his spear was about to reply, but the blond man with the goatee beat him to it. "Funny, that is almost exactly what Aragorn here asked us when we bonked into each other!"  
The man facing Eomer looked mildly annoyed or a moment and Eomer guessed that he had wanted to give a false name. So this was Aragorn. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but it wasn't ringing any bells.  
Trying to stay on topic, Eomer ignored for the moment the question of Aragorn's name and the puzzle of his untactful comrade, and instead asked, "How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?" Great, he just asked if they were elves, it's a good thing he didn't mention the whole thinking they were orcs thing, that would really wipe away any scrap of trust these people had in his eyesight.  
Aragorn replied, "No, one only of us is an Elf, the rest of us have passed through the woodland realm and carry the favors of the lady with us, except for these men who travel with us. Our paths crossed at Parth-Galen, and their voices have plagued my steps ever since. As for my purpose, I am a wanderer from the north, and I am hunting orcs."  
Before Eomer could reply to this revelation, they were interrupted, again.  
"That is incredibly rude!" the taller of the two wide-girthed, hirsute strangers protested. "We volunteered to help you out on your quest thing, with no hope of reward, and all you can do is insult us! When I tell this story back in Asgard, I will describe you as having a paunch! See if I don't!"  
Eomer offered Aragorn a pitying glance, and the man came as close to rolling his eyes as a tall and grim roamer of the wilderness and hunter of orcs could come to rolling his eyes. In this case, it was pretty close.  
Suddenly Eomer registered what the man had said, "So there is a Lady of the Golden Wood as the old tales tell!" he thought aloud. "Few escape her nets, they say. Perhaps you yourselves are net-weavers!" he stared at the travelers with renewed wariness, he was pretty sure that they weren't casting any illusions, but he was supposed to be keen of mind and eye, and it's hard to look keen of eye when you almost miss six people standing on a hill without cover, who aren't even hiding from you…  
"Strange days indeed, but we really didn't come here to talk about golden nets and fairy tales, did you happen to see any 'orcs' that we can squish?"  
Eomer turned cold eyes upon the talkative blond man. He would have been disturbed by the silence of the three that had yet to speak, but this blond one was making it difficult enough to get a word in edgewise that perhaps their taciturnity was understandable. After a moment of staring the man down, he simply stated, "Strangers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. You truly know little of orcs if you pursue them in this manner, yet you need pursue them no longer, for the Orcs are destroyed. Now tell me 'Aragorn' who do you serve, and from whence you come and to what purpose, for we have never met, yet I feel that yours is a story that soon many shall hear."  
Aragorn considered him a moment before replying, "First tell me whom you serve, are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"  
"As for that," Eomer declared, conscious that his men were watching him, "the stranger should declare himself first, but I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Theoden King, son of Thengel; we are not servants to the Black Land, nor are we at war with. We wish things only to remain as they always have. In better days we welcomed guests but now the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Now tell me, oh Aragorn of the strange company, from whence do you come into this land and whom do you serve that you hunt orcs so on foot?"  
At this point, Aragorn drew himself to his full height and prepared himself to offer a full revelation. A fire lit behind his eyes, and Eomer clearly saw that this man was much more than a wandering hunter of orcs. His face became grim and fair, like the ancient kings carved into stone. The man threw back his cloak to reveal a bright and beautiful sword, held in a sheath of elven making. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and I am not weaponless. I know more of orcs than many a mortal man, and I hunt them thus not out of choice, but because they have taken our friends. In such a straight a man will go on foot for lack of a horse, and surround himself with talkative idiots for lack of a company."  
Eomer stared at the man for a moment, Aragorn seemed prepared to go on, but the blond man in strange armor looked like he was about to talk again, so he quickly dismounted and said, "Truly legends spring from the grass, we have horses, for three of my men have fallen. We saw no beings but orcs for all within the camp were destroyed, yet if you wish to find for yourselves the fate of your fellows you need not do it on foot."  
At that last declaration the taller red bearded man began to snicker, and Eomer realized that perhaps the word 'fallen' was an unfortunate euphemism for the death of a horseman.  
Eomer saw Eothain giving him a dirty look, and hid his smirk. He was Eomer, son of Eomund, Third Marshal of Ridermark; he did not give horses to strangers just to upset his uptight second in command. But it was a really big bonus. Maybe not worth breaking the law, he frowned; he had forgotten about that law, the annoying blond one had distracted him. Shoot, he would have to ask some of them to stay behind as insurance or something.  
"Our friends were not men, but would appear as dwarves or children to your eyes, they were clad in grey and unshod. Did you see any such bodies among the dead?"  
Eomer turned back to Aragorn and his frown deepened, the orcs stole this guy's kids. That would certainly explain why he had journeyed out through the wilderness on foot. "We saw neither child nor dwarf when we despoiled the bodies and burned them as is our custom." He explained, trying not to think about the many ways that the monsters could have disposed of a couple of children before the riders thorough intervention.  
"If the Hobbits are all crispy, I really don't need to see them. I'm good, we can go home now."  
Aragorn stared expressively at the big, red-bearded man for a moment, and the dwarf stabbed the hilt of his axe into his taller counterpart's foot.  
"Hobbits," Eomer sounded out the name doubtfully, "it is a strange name."  
"A strange name for a strange folk," the dwarf agreed, "you probably know them as Halflings."  
Eothain snorted derisively, "Do fairy tales and legends now walk the earth?"  
Aragorn looked like he was going to give some cryptic answer, but the blond one beat him to it. "Well, funny you should ask, seeing as I am almost certain that Midgardian culture has stories written about you guys, but I don't really think that's important right now. Sounds like the 'Hobbits' kicked the bucket. Sorry guys," he shrugged at the other men…and the dwarf…and the elf… (Things used to be a lot simpler.) "Someone had to say it."  
The dark haired man who had yet to speak stilled his vocally inclined friend with a firm hand on the shoulder and added apologetically, "We are sorry for your loss, it sounds as if these Hobbits were very dear to you, but we were sent from Asgard for exploratory purposes, and we accompanied you for the sake of helping your friends, but if your friends are dead, we need accompany you no longer. It would be expedient if we could now travel with these riders to the nearest settlement."  
For once, Eomer was speechless, and it looked like Aragorn, and his slightly more loyal friends were as well. This would take care of the problem of letting strangers roam free through the Mark with insurance of good behavior, but Eomer wasn't sure his job was worth listening to those people talk until they made it back to the capital.  
Finally Eothain managed to ask, "Excuse Me?"  
The blond one started talking again, "So, basically we've been traveling with these guys to have an adventure and save the tiny alien subspecies in distress, but sounds like tiny alien subspecies bit it, so we want to hitch a ride with you guys."  
Eomer stared at the talkative one in horror, he saw Eothain staring in disbelief, the dwarf was staring in narrowly suffused rage, the elf was observing in practiced indifference, and Aragorn actually looked a little relieved.  
"Um…" he looked to Eothain hopefully, for once hoping the snide officer would insert himself.  
Eothain stood a little taller and spoke in his 'If you had followed the rules to begin with you wouldn't be in this position' voice. (Eomer would have been more annoyed except he heard that voice fairly often.) "I am afraid that the Marshal has just given away all of our spare horses, if you desire to ride you must remain with you friends, we trust that in better times you will return to the hospitality of the Mark."  
Wow, Eomer had yet to comprehend just how politically correct that little upstart could be.  
Aragorn raised his eyebrow at Eothain in an unmistakable challenge, "We thank you for these fine horses," here he rubbed Hasufel's flank, "but my friends have on several occasions confided in me their deep and lasting love for vigorous calisthenics and would little slow you though they were all on foot. Indeed," he continued, "we need only two of your fine horses that your third empty mount may bear them in turns and two may run while one rides. In this way you will make good time, and none of your men will be overburdened, for these men are hardy, and as fleet of foot as of tongue."  
Eomer narrowed his eyes, this man may be nobility, he could be the heir of Isildur for all he cared, but he was not going to win this. Aragorn was the one to pick these men up in the first place, and he would be keeping them. That comment about these nincompoops being able to keep pace with the steeds of Rohan kind of rankled though. "We have defeated one company of orcs, yet many more may roam this wilderness, it would be ill-suiting of us to rob you of your protection, if these men desire to see the golden halls of Theoden King, they may ride with you when you have fulfilled your purpose and returned our horses to us."  
Aragorn smiled amiably, but Eomer saw, beneath the world weary face and gentle smile, the desperation of a man who has been captive to the horrors of endless banter and seeing an escape would stop for no man. "Then we look forward with anticipation to the conclusion of this adventure that we may return to the Mark and witness the beauty of Rohan's maidens and the richness of Rohirrim wine."  
Eomer's relief at Aragorn's unexpected submission was cut off as the talkative one and the fat one both perked up.  
"How pretty are we talking here?" The blond man asked.  
Aragorn pretended to reminisce for a moment even though Eomer knew that he had never personally been to Riddermark. "The women of Rohan are tall and fair, with hair like flaxen gold; some say the beauty of a Rohirrim shield maiden is comparable even to the beauty of the woodland elves."  
The elf raised his eyebrow at Aragorn, but the ranger muttered quickly, "Peace, Legolas!"  
"Rohan women are able to fight?" the darker one asked, piqued.  
Before Eomer could catch himself, he heard himself saying, "My sister, Eowynn is a shield maiden, and the most perilous and beautiful maiden in Rohan." The blond one and the dark one both looked interested now, and Eomer cursed his brotherly pride.  
Aragorn continued relentlessly, "Have you heard, Legolas, of the Rohirrim wines?"  
The elf nodded wisely, with a smug expression upon his flawless features, "Long the Elven Lords have treasured the brew of Rohan, indeed, sweet and powerful is the wine, but the food also is perfectly flavored; none go hungry in those fine halls. Those who have eaten there believe that the land itself is blessed to produce so fine a fare."  
The red man was listening with rapt attention to Legolas's description until he could contain himself no longer, "Indeed, we must travel with you, oh masters of horses, for no power on earth would bid me ride with these eaters of lembas when so glorious a city is at hand! Give me a horse at once!"  
Eomer was beginning to have some very unfriendly thoughts toward these strangers, and decided that it was probably a good thing that he had handed off his spear in order to dismount. "You do us great honor, but alas, Rohan has fallen upon difficult times, and I am afraid naught will grow, our stores are meager and my party was sent that we might find a starving hog or hart with which to feed the old and sick." Rohirrim were primarily honest men, and none were skilled with deceit, but even so, Eomer was pretty sure that his horse could have spun a better lie.  
Aragorn looked about them wordlessly for a moment, clearly observing the lush grass and shining horses.  
"Fine, we'll take them." Eomer muttered gracelessly.  
Eothain stalked off to gather the eored and Eomer heard him muttering in vivid terms about half-witted Marshals signing them on to babysit quarter-witted orc hunters.  
Eomer sighed; this was going to be a long ride.


End file.
